


Dream of me

by ayazuri



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Stuck in Limbo, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayazuri/pseuds/ayazuri
Summary: He's stuck down there. And there's no way out. No escaping.It’s a dream.You’re not here.I’m not really here.You're not real.He's going to forget anyway.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	Dream of me

**Author's Note:**

> If you expect suffering, you might just be disappointed.  
> Probably just this once.

_It’s a dream._

_You’re not here._

_I’m not really here._

_It’s a dream._

_It’s not real._

_You’re not real._

There’s this mantra in his head, replaying over and over again. A broken record he’s slowly becoming sick of. The fact that he knows doesn’t change a single thing.

The world around him isn’t real but it doesn’t change a single fucking thing because he doesn’t know how to escape. 

God, he’s tried so many times. 

Ever since he realized. (And when was that? It’s getting harder to remember things, lately.)

But no matter how many times he kills himself, he always wakes up in his bed, drenched in sweat and nauseous. Except it’s not his bed and it’s not his house, and the person sleeping beside him is not real, no matter how real he seems. He knows, he doesn’t need to check his totem. 

(Oh, but he did check, hundreds, thousands of times. And it’s always a dream.)

He knows where he is. Unconstructed dream space. Can’t really be anything, _anywhere_ else. Prison without a way out. There’s no escape, he knows that now, and so one day he stops trying. The projection of the person he loves seems to approve of his choice.

There was a time, he thinks dimly, when he tried - and failed - not to get attached. Not in here. But this second body was so familiar, so welcoming, that he thought _why not,_ and gave in. 

Keeping track of time is hard, so eventually he stops this too. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe he doesn’t really want to know how much time has passed. Maybe not anymore. And he can’t really remember his own name. Or the name of the person he loves. It’s strange, for he knows they both use them - _their names_ \- everyday. Yet, when he tries to remember there’s nothing there. Just unease, blank spaces and fear. He wonders if there ever comes a day when he can’t remember that he’s dreaming. It’s probably not long until it happens. And maybe it’s better that way, to finally stop feeling this agony and longing for the life long lost. He’s going to forget anyway.

For there’s no hope left. 

All he’s got left is the dream.

And the arms of the person he loves opens for him every night, and when he stops thinking, he can’t tell the difference anymore.

_’You must wake up’’ the person he loves tells him one night, a long time after he’s stopped counting. He blinks, startled, and for a moment doesn’t know what’s this all is about. But then, the person he loves looks straight into his eyes and through them to his soul. And suddenly he remembers._

_It’s all just a dream. A life-long, too realistic dream. He probably isn’t even that old up there, in reality. He probably never even had time to get old. And the person he loves - the real one - waits for him there, and he’s probably worried sick. Because he always worries too much._

_There’s something under his pillow, maybe it’s been here all along. Something he’s forgotten about. He gropes for it blindly, never looking away from his love’s gaze. His fingers find a familiar shape, familiar weight, familiar texture. He squeezes it and knows. His totem is a silent warning. It’s not real. He’s only dreaming._

_‘’Why now? After all these years, why now?’’ he asks because there are no other words to speak. The person he loves sits up, still looking at him - into him - and then he’s on him, covering him with his body, pressing it to the mattress._

_‘’Eames,’’ says the person he loves, his voice stern and serious. ‘’It’s time for you to wake up. Wake up now.’’_

  
  


And Eames does.

He opens his eyes to the blinding light and scorching heat, and broken air-conditioning.

He wakes to a startled gasp, muffled curse and exhale of relief.

Then someone - and Eames knows it’s the person he loves, the real one, the one and only Arthur and not some projection - takes his hand and squeezes, and he feels that Arthur is trembling, ever so slightly. Arthur is so _alive and real,_ that it takes Eames’ breath away.

‘’You’re so fucking reckless, Mr. Eames, I hope you know this.’’ 

And there’s so much fondness in his voice that Eames wonders how, in the name of everything that is holy, he could have forgotten how the real Arthur sounds, how he smells, how he feels under his touch.

He cracks a smile, and Arthur squeezes his hand just a bit tighter.

‘’I love you too, darling.’’

And he does, he really does love him. He doesn’t need to check his totem to see if this is real. 

  
  


_It’s not a dream._

_You’re here._

_I’m really here._

_It’s not a dream._

_It’s real._

  
  


_You’re real._

_We’re real._

**Author's Note:**

> So actually, it's not angsty. And there's a happy ending. Unusual, if you ask me.  
> Purely self-indulgent, no plot, just wrote the scene I had in my mind. And I kinda like it :3  
> Drop me a line, tell me what you think!  
> Love, fam! xoxo


End file.
